


Gossip

by lea_ysaye



Series: Old Friends [2]
Category: Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Fandom, Norman Reedus - Fandom, The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: A little, Angst, Bisexuality, Gay Sex, M/M, mention of het relationships, mordus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:44:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_ysaye/pseuds/lea_ysaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before their planned Nashville trip Norman shows up at Jeff's, and he's got some troubling things on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gossip

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember that this is pure fiction as far as the conflicts go. I'm claiming no inside knowledge into anyone's relationship(s) and made this up to amuse myself and my readers.

“Brother, it’s midnight. What the hell? Phone call would’ve been nice. Or a text.” Jeff pauses, but all he can hear is the crackling of the intercom.

“Sorry, man. I…I’ll go home…” Norman sounds dejected even through the static.

Feeling like an asshole Jeff rubs his sleep-bleary eyes and presses the buzzer. “Don’t be stupid. C’mon in.”

Yawning, Jeff opens the door and waits for Norman to walk up the drive. As he stands there in the balmy Georgia night half a dozen mosquitoes buzz past him and into the house.

“Christ,” Jeff mumbles, swatting at them, then calls to Norman, “Move it, bro, will ya? These fuckers are gonna eat us alive.”

When he finally gets to the door Norman’s expression is odd. He’s not looking at Jeff, just squeezes past him through the door pulled half shut against the critters. Frowning Jeff follows his friend into the house.

“Three grand rent a month and the fucking porch isn’t even enclosed,” he mumbles, trailing Norman who makes for the living room where he drops his black carry-on bag and stands stock still in the middle of the room.

“Forgot your house keys, bro?” Jeff walks around Norman to see his face. If he didn’t know better he would’ve sworn his friend is stoned. “What’s wrong, man? You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

It takes Norman another minute to reply, during which time he chews the inside of his mouth, his fingers pulling and twisting each other, and tugging at his tee as if the fabric is itching him against his chest. Then he finally focuses on Jeff. His eyes aren’t sad, or scared, or…anything. They’re just sort of empty. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Course you can, bro. Sorry ‘bout the grumpy welcome. You woke me up.”

Norman’s face shifts, at long last there’s some emotion. But now he looks miserable. “God, ‘m sorry. Hadn’t realized what time it is.” He seems close to tears, and Jeff winces as he watches his friend’s fingers twist around each other forcefully.

“Forget about it. Norm, you feeling all right? Getting a headache, maybe?”

Norman shakes his head, then nods, then shrugs.

 _Glad we cleared that up,_ Jeff thinks, but doesn’t say it. Instead he asks, “Exhausting convention, huh?”

This time Norman’s nod is decisive. “’m sore from the shoot, and all that standing around’s done a real number on my back.”

“Don’t they give you chairs?”

“Sometimes.”

“But not down in the sunshine state, huh?” Jeff thinks he can see the shade of a grin on Norman’s face, but then his friend shifts with a wince, pressing one hand hard into his back. Jeff can hear vertebrae crack as Norman bends down for his bag.

“Hey, listen, I’m gonna go home. Let you sleep so you’re fresh for our trip.”

“No way, brother, you’re staying. C’mon, let’s hit the hay. You look ready to fall asleep on your feet.”

Jeff takes the bag from Norman, then turns him around by the shoulders and chivvies him towards the back of the house and the bedrooms. “You still wanna go, right?” Norman’s voice is real quiet, as if he’s afraid of the answer.

Jeff puts all the enthusiasm he can into his reply. “Are you kidding, man? You’ve talked about nothing but that Nashville ride for weeks, like you get commission from the Tennessee tourist board. Got me all excited, don’t even think of letting me down now!” He points at the door to their left. “That’s the nicer guest bedroom. Sheets are fresh, too.”

Norman stops, and that damn finger pulling starts up again. Jeff can barely catch the glance from the corner of the other’s eye, all shy and unsure. Then Norman looks down at his feet and blushes, and Jeff gets it. “You wanna sleep with me?”

A tiny nod, and Jeff frowns. _Why didn’t you just say so, brother?_ What’s going on here? It’s not like they rip each other’s clothes off every chance they get, but ever since the hand job at SDCC Norman’s never shy about getting his needs met when he’s horny.

Not that, then. No fucking tonight. Something’s freaked his friend out, and he doesn’t want to be alone. Jeff has a feeling he won’t find out tonight what that something was.

“C’mon, then.” Jeff points ahead towards the master bedroom, realizing Norman has never been past the couch in this house. They usually meet over at Norman’s sleek and obsessively neat place, which, even though he’s owned it for over a year now, doesn’t really feel like a home to Jeff. But, Jeff muses as he watches Norman pull off his shoes and denims and crawl onto the bed on all fours like a tuckered-out five-year-old, he probably just doesn’t understand about those artsy types and their bohemian lifestyles.

No use even suggesting Norman should brush his teeth. But… “I know for a fact you gotta take your pills, brother. And by the looks of you it’s high time, too.”

Norman, head buried in the pillow, squints around. “What’s the use? Head’s already sore.”

Logic clearly has fled the building, and Jeff’s patience isn’t far behind. He bites back an impatient retort, which would only make things worse. “And if you don’t take them it’ll be even more sore soon. You wanna go riding tomorrow, correct? The way you look right now, the only place we’re going is the ER.”

Norman huffs but half sits up, and Jeff digs in the carry-on he’s still holding for the pills. “Here.” He plonks the little bottle onto the bedside table, drops the bag onto the floor and ignores Norman’s wince.

Shaking his head Jeff goes into the bathroom for a glass of water. If this is the way it’s gonna be he might as well have taken his son Gus to Disneyland. Might’ve been more of a grown-up vacation.

*

He wakes at dawn, and Norman is right next to him, curled up the same way he was when he fell asleep. His friend looks like he didn’t move at all during the night. Jeff smiles, but there’s worry mixed in with the fondness that floods him at the sight. Norman must’ve been beyond exhausted when he zonked out. No wonder he had been so weird.

The other man’s face is turned away, and something looks odd from this angle. Jeff raises himself onto his elbow and leans over until he can see Norman’s face properly. A grin steals across his lips. Norman’s right thumb is lodged firmly in his mouth, index finger curled around his nose. It’s the sweetest thing Jeff has seen in a long time, and it makes his friend look just as innocent and precious as Gus. Of course, that won’t stop Jeff teasing Norman about this mercilessly as soon as he gets a chance.

But for now Norman is asleep, and Jeff hopes he’ll stay that way for a while yet. It’s very early, and after the weekend he’s just had he needs every minute of rest he can get. Nashville is at least a six-hour drive, and they need to be awake for the trip.

Careful not to disturb his sleeping friend Jeff gets up and tiptoes into the bathroom. He takes a piss and brushes his teeth, then sneaks past the bed again and heads for the kitchen where he puts the coffee on. While he’s rooting in the cupboards to find something more acceptable for breakfast than Gus’s stale cereal Jeff hears the door to the back garden open and close again.

Peeking into the living room he sees Norman outside on the deck, talking on his phone and smoking. A pre-coffee cigarette is unusual, even now when Norman can easily go through a pack a day. Jeff decides to leave him to it for now. Norman clearly wants to be alone for this call, and even though Jeff isn’t a big fan of this house at least it comes with enough acreage to give you real privacy in the garden.

When the coffee maker beeps Jeff fills two mugs, and he’s just wondering whether or not he should hand one out to Norman when he hears his friend’s raised voice, still out on the deck. If he’s shouting loud enough for it to travel through the double glazing he’s also loud enough to be heard the next property over, even if it is 300 yards away.

“What the hell,” Jeff murmurs and picks up the coffees. By the time he approaches the veranda door Norman has stopped yelling, and now is pacing, a fresh cigarette in trembling fingers.

Jeff shoulders the door open and steps outside, holding one coffee out as Norman passes him. Norman grabs the mug and takes a big gulp of the scalding liquid.

“It’s pretty remote here, brother, but they could probably hear that last bit all the way to Atlanta.”

Norman stares into his coffee. “Sorry.”

“Bro, it’s your dirty laundry. Air it at whatever volume you like.” Jeff strides over to one of the sun loungers and sits down. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

From the tense set of Norman’s shoulders Jeff is briefly convinced his friend will just up and leave, and blow off their whole trip. He’d be sorry about that, but Norman’s odd behavior is starting to freak him out, and he needs to get to the bottom of this.

After a minute Norman’s back slumps, and Jeff hears him give a shaky sigh. He shuffles to one of the garden chairs and sits down heavily, rubbing his face.

“I fucked up. Again.”

Jeff waits, patient now that Norman is actually talking, and only cocks an eyebrow at him.

“I… I started something, with…well, this…girl. Got sucked into it, I guess…”

 _Ah,_ Jeff thinks, _so it’s true._ “I heard about that, uh…girl,” he says quietly.

Norman stares. “How…?”

“Grapevine goes all the way from Georgia to the city, brother. Hilarie mentioned it the other day.” He gives Norman a moment to say something. Deny it, maybe? Explain it? Lie? But nothing is forthcoming, so Jeff presses on. That’s what friends are for, to tell you uncomfortable truths. “She’s trouble, man. But you’ve worked that out for yourself by now, huh?”

Norman nods, but looks away from Jeff. He’s blushing, and Jeff feels sorry for him. “Got a special talent to find that kind.”

“That you got indeed, my friend. So, what were you yelling at her specifically for just now?”

“I don’t talk about it, ever. Y’know, in public. Who…who I see. I don’t play that game. Feeding the tabloids stories, paying paps to snap me, or not snap me. It’s gross.” Norman puts his mug on the deck and hides his face in his hands.

Jeff gropes under the sun lounger and pulls out a pack of Parliaments and matches. He lights one, then nudges Norman and hands him the cigarette. Norman’s fingers are icy when they brush Jeff’s.

 _What’s freaked him out?_ Jeff wonders, but now that conversation has been established it’s better to let Norman get there in his own time. “That her MO, huh?”

“Guess it makes sense for her. You know what it’s like, being a woman in our biz. And she’s got dreams…”

From what Jeff has heard it’s much more than that. She has a reputation of being ruthlessly ambitious, of having her eyes firmly on the next stepping stone up. Anyone who looks like a convenient point of launching herself forward will do, and anything that gets her talked about is tried, with little regard as to who will suffer for it, as long as it’s not her.

Not quite time for that truth yet, Jeff decides. “So she’s given you an ultimatum?” A nod from Norman, and Jeff carries on. “And you’re off to see her, when we come back from Nashville.”

Another nod, and a shaky exhale on the next tug from his cigarette. Then Norman looks up, expression suddenly different, eyes focused. “Never mind, huh? We got a trip to go on. Pack your shit, and we’ll swing by my place for the Triumph.” He propels himself out of the chair and stubs out his cigarette. _Case closed, I guess,_ Jeff thinks. Nothing to do but wait and see, for now. But that wasn’t the end of it, by a long stretch.

With a sigh of his own Jeff gets up and follows Norman back into the house. His friend is nearly skipping now, though it looks forced to Jeff. Norman’s shoulders are still far too tense.

“Mind if I grab a shower while you pack? Save us time at mine later.”

“Go ahead, brother. Mi casa…”

Norman sketches a wave over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall and into the master bedroom. Jeff shakes his head and makes for the bathroom off the hall, and his own shower.

 _You really never know what you’ll get with Norman, one minute to the next_ , Jeff muses. _Lucky for him he’s such a cute little shit, cuz he’s fucking infuriating._

*

“That was fun!”

Norman’s grin is pretty lopsided, and Jeff is finding it hard to walk in a straight line. Not so much because he’s pretty toasted himself, which is true enough, but mostly because he’s wearing Norman like some kind of fashion accessory draped over him. And Norman’s heavy, and totally pickled. And giggly and handsy, and while Jeff usually loves how affectionate his friend is this is going way beyond the normal body contact they can laugh away if someone sees them. Someone snaps a picture now and posts it online, they make it into many a fan’s dream stream, but the studio would be furious. And what Hilarie would have to say about it Jeff doesn’t even dare imagine.

“Brother,” Jeff says in what he hopes is a whisper, and removes Norman’s left hand from under his tee where it had been busy playing with his nipples. “I love you, and I’ll fuck you soon as we get to the hotel. But if you don’t let go of my ass _right now_ I’ll punch you.”

Unfortunately Norman merely finds that highly amusing and giggles harder, which makes him lose the last of his precarious balance, and they stagger into the wall of the alley they’re passing through. With a theatrical, beady glance to left and right Norman crowds right in, their crotches pressing together, and starts covering Jeff’s face in enthusiastic, cigarette-infused kisses.

“Norm, hey, stop it…”

Jeff tries pushing Norman away, gently but firmly, but that’s no small feat when Norman is in limpet mode.

“Y’said fuck,” Norman giggles, trying, and failing, to look directly at Jeff. “Why wait f’t’hotel? Here’s good.”

 _He_ is _sexy,_ Jeff suddenly realizes, and understands why the fans are so crazy about him. And feeling Norman’s erection press into him is making it fucking hard to concentrate. But still, the kissing weirds him out. Usually Norman’s fine with that. After all, they have hands, and dicks, and bodies to rub together. When sober, Norman remembers. Tonight, though…

 _We gotta get horizontal,_ Jeff thinks. And out loud he says, “Sure, brother, I can fuck you right here, with a good chance that we get into the gossip rags. Orlando Bloom’s free-swinging dick is yesterday’s news already, and summer is always slow for gossip. You won’t even need to pay any paps for this story, and maybe she’ll dump you if we make the headlines. Her new trophy boyfriend getting it up the ass in some Nashville alley might put her off.”

That was low, Jeff knows, but it does the trick. He can see the implications penetrating his friend’s inebriated gray cells, and he feels like an asshole when the lust drains out of Norman’s magnetically blue eyes, and they become sort of flat and scared instead. Eventually Norman nods and backs off. “Better wait.”

Jeff fights down the sense of guilt. He has to stay firm now, otherwise what was the sense in being mean? “Uhu, better wait. Wise decision.”

Jeff pulls his phone out and dials the number of the Uber driver they used earlier in the evening, walking towards the end of the alleyway at the same time, Norman in tow. They stop under the street sign and Jeff finishes the call. Then he pulls a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lights one. He holds the cigarettes out to Norman, who stands slightly turned away and is biting down hard on his thumb nail, ignoring him. Jeff gives him a nudge.

“Uber’ll be ten minutes, we got time for a smoke.”

Unusually, Norman shakes his head. Jeff frowns. There’s normally only one reason for Norman refusing a cigarette. “Don’t tell me your head’s playing up, dude.” Jeff’s trying hard not to sound exasperated, but he knows he’s not very successful, and feels immediately guilty again. So what if Norman’s head’s hurting? He’s not doing it on purpose. But Jeff can’t lie to himself. If Norman ends the night with a migraine Jeff will be disappointed. His friend has been such a cock tease all night, getting him all hot and bothered, and Jeff really needs that fuck now.

“No need to bitch, man, ‘s not my head,” Norman says in an injured tone. He pauses, worrying at his nail some more. “Y’know what she said?”

Jeff doesn’t need to ask who they’re talking about. “What’s that?”

“She said that if… if I didn’t play along she’d tell some people what…what really happened…” Norman’s face is strangely blank for a moment, and Jeff has a bad feeling about this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She says that she…did what she did, split with her dude, cuz I made her. That I promised her commitment, to get her into bed…”

Jeff snorts, but he doesn’t quite believe the conviction he puts into his next words. “Empty threats. Who’d believe that? Nobody in the biz…”

“She knows how to play this game,” Norman says very quietly. “She gets it. I…I don’t. The fans, they’ll hear the gossip, and…”

There’s a scathing _So what?_ on the tip of Jeff’s tongue, but then Norman looks around at him, eyes full of pain, and the sound dies in his throat. “You really care what they think, huh?” Jeff says it as kindly as he can, he suddenly understands just how terrified Norman is.

“Course I care. I’m only here cuz of them.” There are tears in Norman’s eyes. Just as Jeff tries to think of a reply a car pulls up next to them, and he’s ashamed at the feeling of relief that he has an excuse not to deal with the issue right now.

“Ride’s here, brother. Let’s talk about this when we get behind closed doors.”

Norman walks over to where Jeff is holding open the back passenger door of their Uber, but then stops and looks Jeff straight in the eye. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No more talking tonight. I want one night away from it all.”

That’s what this trip is, Jeff realizes. A small escape from reality, a reprieve, before Norman has to face what in his mind is inevitable. “Whatever you say, brother,” he agrees, and Norman, looking relieved, clambers into the backseat of the car.

 _Least I can do,_ Jeff thinks, _show him a good time._ But he wishes he could think of something that might actually help his friend, too.

*

Jeff had been surprised by how much he enjoyed the sex with Norman when they finally got around to it. They had fucked for the first time a few days after San Diego, at Norman’s place after an evening of good food, football and a few beers. Noman had made him feel at ease. Jeff had known that Norman slept with both men and women, but he’d never before made a move on him. Jeff isn’t at all sorry that it happened when it did, while he’s still easing into Georgia life. It makes him feel at home.

Now Jeff is fully focused on the body pressing so damn close he is sure Norman would climb right into his skin if that were at all possible. Norman’s head is down, as if to remind himself not to try and kiss Jeff again. His eyes are closed, he’s totally lost in the sensations transmitted from groins and hands and chests rubbing together. Then he leans his head on Jeff’s shoulder with a sigh.

Somehow Jeff manages to close the door behind them and frog-walk them over toward the bed. He tosses key card, cap, cigarettes onto the table by the TV and grips Norman by the shoulders. At first his friend still doesn’t look at him, but when he does Jeff can feel his dick give a twitch at that fire in the impossibly blue eyes.

“Dear god, brother.”

Suddenly he cannot wait. He lets go of Norman and quickly unbuckles his belt and pants, pulls everything down and off, and steps out of his shoes. Norman starts doing the same as Jeff slips his tee off over his head, and when he emerges again Norman is already pushing himself back on the bed. He lies down, eyes on Jeff unwavering, still sparkling like precious stones.

Jeff suddenly remembers a set of photographs he’s seen of Norman, modelling for Prada when he first came to Hollywood in the 90s. His friend had looked like jail bait at almost thirty, and some of that has never quite disappeared. This boyish innocence paired with raw desire does things to him Jeff hadn’t even realized he’d craved.

“Damn you,” he mutters, and climbs onto the mattress.

It’s not just arousal now, though that’s as strong as ever. But the sight of this guy he’s known for fifteen years, all bare, warm, freckled skin, this vulnerability that’s just as real and visible as Norman’s impossibly broad shoulders, elicits a great tenderness in Jeff. He scoots between Norman’s spread legs, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead he lowers himself until their chests and hips and dicks are touching, propping himself onto one elbow.

Norman, head cocked quizzically, sneaks one arm up between them and places his hand on Jeff’s back, while tilting his pelvis, causing electric currents to shoot through Jeff’s whole body. Jeff has to close his eyes and lie very still to stop from coming right there in the tightness between their bodies.

Fuck!

“What’s this?” comes Norman’s question, all husky and full of sex. Jeff opens his eyes and leans down, but Norman moves his face away. “Y’don’ have t’,” he mumbles, and it comes back to Jeff just how drunk they both are.

“I know that,” Jeff growls, leans close and catches Norman’s lower lip with his teeth. Norman gives a small whimper. _Fuck it,_ Jeff thinks. _He drives me crazy, might as well do this right._ Norman tastes of cigarettes and booze, just like Jeff is sure he does himself, and as they kiss and lick and nip at each other he soon forgets the graze of the stubble and the roughness of the caress.

Norman trembles under him, rubs his turgid dick against Jeff until Jeff really nearly loses control of himself. A low whimper starts somewhere deep in Norman’s throat, until he pulls away, panting. “Fuck me, man.” The neediness in the plea goes through Jeff like lightning.

He straightens up and Norman shivers as Jeff’s body heat suddenly disappears. But his eyes are still shining as he watches Jeff make his preparations.

Condoms and slick are in the bag right by the bed. Jeff is ready within the space of a minute, and soon back between Norman’s spread legs.

Norman’s eyes are nearly closed, his hand is on his dick, strokes languid, lazy. He’s waiting, pacing himself. A small smile plays around his mouth as he watches Jeff watch him, eyes traveling up and down Jeff’s body. “Y’wanna know a secret?” It’s almost a drawl.

“What’s that?” Jeff asks as he slides one hand between Norman’s buttocks.

“Been jacking off to…,” a small hitch in Norman’s voice as Jeff’s slicked-up finger enters him. “…to this… t’you, f’years… never thought it could happen tho…”

“Really?” Jeff’s finger crooks suddenly, hitting Norman’s prostate, and Norman closes his eyes and whimpers, hand on his dick tightening.

“Ya,” he pants, then cracks one eye open again. “Y’gonna fuck me, brother? Or is this a rectal exam, and I get a bill at the end?” Norman’s trying to sound casual, but Jeff can see how close he is, and it’s such a turn-on.

“Patience,” he murmurs, but withdraws his finger and before Norman even knows what’s happening he’s in position and pushing against Norman’s opening until the other man relaxes enough to allow him in.

There’s no more talking now, but Norman isn’t quiet. He sighs and moans and whimpers, and each sound, timed with his thrusts, edges Jeff closer to orgasm. He shifts his weight onto one arm and closes his hand over Norman’s on the other’s dick when he can see that it’s another minute at most. Norman lets go and grips Jeff’s biceps instead, short nails digging in deep. The other hand bunches in the sheets and his back arches.

The view of Norman’s exposed throat tips Jeff over the edge, and he feels Norman tighten around him on his last thrust. That’s his favorite thing about fucking another guy. How tight Norman is, and how in tune their bodies are. He knows exactly what to do and when. The tautness of muscle, the edges, the sheer physical strength took some getting used to after all that softness of the female form. But there’s something Jeff is getting out of this that he’s never gotten from Hilarie, or any other woman.

What exactly that something is he can’t puzzle out right now. Hormones and booze mix in his head as Norman comes hot and fast over his hand.

They breathe together, eyes locked again. For a few minutes Jeff stays very still and keeps the eye contact up. He knows by now that Norman likes that feeling of fullness, that connection while they slowly come out of that ecstasy haze of sex. The first time they fucked Jeff withdrew quickly, and saw this terrible expression of pain and loss on Norman’s face that he never wants to see again.

So now he always waits for that tiny nod, that slight shift in Norman’s face that means he’s ok, that he won’t start crying if Jeff pulls away. Once he’s seen that little sign Jeff rolls over and grabs a box of tissues from the bedside table, and they clean up.

It’s slightly unsettling to Jeff how much he looks forward to the post-coital cuddle. He has always enjoyed the easy affection, the physical contact Norman seeks from his male friends. And in bed, just like in public, Norman likes it best if Jeff is the one doing the cuddling, and holding Norman in his arms post-fuck is familiar territory for a man who has only ever slept with women.

Norman never talks much afterwards, and today he’s extra quiet. Jeff thinks he knows why that is so, and he doesn’t like it. He hates the idea that Norman is locked in his internal misery when they’ve just had such a good time together. So he decides to bring the issue up again, even after what Norman had said earlier. “You don’t owe her anything, y’know.”

The only response is a sigh and the rustle of sheets as Norman scoots closer and nestles against Jeff’s chest. Jeff tries again. “You gave her no encouragement, to… y’know, make her do what she did, did you?”

“No,” comes quietly after a moment. Jeff can hear the _But_ , and waits it out. “But now she’s all alone…”

 _And how is that any of your problem?_ Jeff thinks, but keeps that to himself. Instead he says, “Pity’s not the answer, and you know that. You’re not doing her any favors.” _Or yourself,_ he adds silently.

He can tell it’s no good. Norman has made up his mind, and pushing it now will only make him dig his heels in deeper. Jeff has been a witness of that trait in his friend more times than he cares to remember. And anyway, none of what Jeff has to say is new to Norman. He knows what’s likely to happen, and he’ll walk into chaos with eyes wide open anyway.

“It’s late,” Jeff finally sighs, and leans over to turn the light off. “Long drive back tomorrow. Let’s call it a day, huh?”

“All right,” Norman agrees, and they lie quietly in the dark.

But Jeff knows that it’ll be a long time before Norman’s mind shuts off enough for sleep, even with the endorphins and all the alcohol.

And sensing the tension and worry in his friend will keep Jeff awake a good long time, as well.

*

“She’s pretty cute, huh?” Jeff glances at Norman who is gazing after the pretty redheaded fan.

“Hm,” is the indistinct response, and Norman turns back to the bike, pulling on his helmet. Jeff shakes his head while Norman isn’t looking, and goes over to his own bike. He hates seeing Norman so closed off and remote. Sure, it could just be the hangover, but Jeff knows better. His friend was even grumpy with the fangirl, and that just never happens.

“You’re still going to her,” he says as Norman climbs onto his bike.

“Ya.” Norman looks at him briefly before pushing down his visor. “Said I would. I don’t break promises.”

She had called again while they had been at Nana’s Diner. Norman’s face had become bleaker and bleaker during that call, and he’d hardly said a word since. Jeff had had to fight down the urge to snatch Norman’s phone away and stomp on it.

“It’s not a promise if she forced you into it, brother.” Jeff can’t see Norman’s face through the visor, but he doesn’t need to.

“You know nothing.” The voice is muffled under the helmet but the anguish is no less palpable for it. Norman kick starts his bike and drives off without a backward glance.

“I guess I don’t,” Jeff sighs, secures his own helmet and starts his bike, then hurries to catch Norman up before his friend disappears from view.


End file.
